Page 72 of Burn Her They Said
As if he can read my mind, Cirrin turns to me with a knowing expression, acknowledging my depletion with the cool sensation of his healing. Which would be more of a comfort were it to have any sort of lasting effect, rather than to be but a drop lost to the void that is my level of need at this point.
Sustenance and rest are surprisingly reviving as I stand unassisted at His Majesty’s mercy, while my Guards and I await his next command from the edge of the dance floor.
Emperor Aldritch storms toward the center of the crowd, ever-present wine goblet in hand. “Now that you have supped on the finest foods in the Empire, it is time for your entertainment!”
Applause rings out as a swarm of telekinetic soldiers marches toward us, bearing the double stripes to indicate their role as one of the elite few serving the Empire in detecting the use of unsanctioned magic. They drag in sorcerers whose heads hang low between their shoulders, forced to don the thin Imperial black execution robes, making it easier to strip them naked before their bodies are dumped in a mass grave.
The soldiers come to a halt before His Majesty, forming a neat row where they shove the sorcerers down to kneel at his feet.
“He’s not going to make her—” Varic begins.
“I forget you haven’t witnessed her be subjected to this,” Fray says, cutting him off.
Emperor Aldritch turns away from the crowd with a cough while his healer, Mille, sends a plume of blue magic to infiltrate his chest cavity. He takes longer than usual to recover, though he returns his attention to the audience as if nothing has happened, sneering at the sorcerers kneeling before him.
“These citizens disgust me. Using unsanctioned magic is a despicable, treasonous act. Yet each of them chose to disgrace our Empire, spitting on the traditions we must abide by for a more prosperous commonwealth.”
Youthful faces and those with deep-set wrinkles exemplify the range in age among the accused, the youngest of which must be around Varic’s age of thirty, while the rest might be nearing the Emperor, who only recently turned seventy.
“What do we know of their purpose?” Varic asks, and my heart lurches while I send a tendril of fear to deter him.
“There isn’t a purpose in refusing to abide by the decree, Imperial Lead Guard Varic,” Emperor Aldritch sneers, and my blood runs cold when his eyes find mine, commanding me to perform my act.
Cirrin imbues me with energy, maintaining our connection with his hand on the small of my back as a tingling sensation ripples through my mind while she moves to the forefront, fists clenching around thousands of pulsating tendrils of fear I’ve held within the depths of my being. All of which she expels until they wriggle beneath the skin of each kneeling sorcerer, who writhe and whimper while I stand still with focus.
However, His Majesty demanded we entertain his audience, so while my magic does not require such movement, I thrust my hands out, palms facing the ceiling, and outstretch my fingers in a dramatic fashion as I send more fear, with the addition of anguish, coiling both in a rope to pierce the hearts of the supposed traitors.
Muffled cries fill my ears as she draws out the worst of their nightmares and most terrifying thoughts until the sorcerers shake so hard some fall to their sides, staring over at me while their screams rise. The collection of pain and agony pierces my shield of numbness, melting the thick layer of ice a lifetime of cruelty formed around my heart.
I recall my magic and shake from the effort, despite Cirrin’s healing. I return to myself as she retreats to the recesses.
“Tell us your purpose in using unsanctioned magic when you understand the consequence,” Varic commands the sorcerers scattered around the stone floor.
“More,” His Majesty commands, turning from my Lead Guard to myself.
Tingles trail through my mind as she collects the red, orange, and ochre threads before promptly sending them to the hearts of my latest victims. Their screams are so terrible they strike fear in those watching, with each noble citizen stumbling backward. Yet His Majesty won’t have his honored guests experiencing fear like the accused criminals, so I split my attention and siphon their terror and redirect it to the bodies of those I am forced to kill.
“This isn’t okay,” Varic whispers. “We can’t just let him do this to her.”
“None of us are willing to risk the innocents,” Lars reminds him.
Tears stream down my cheeks, grieving for the young witch who was made to do this. For what she could have been. Because I have become a fucking monster. How else could I do this?
No, she is doing this. And she is fucking relentless—this monstrous entity His Majesty created, who resides in my body, born the day he first commanded me to kill another.
Pain pierces my middle, and I double over so unexpectedly even Malin didn’t notice the energy shift early enough to catch me. Varic and Fray drop to a knee on either side of my body as the Emperor strides through the maze of agonized victims until he closes in on me, sending a message by kicking my ankle with the toe of his boot.
“This is all part of the show!” the Emperor lies.
Fray’s hand rests on my back while Varic’s heat hovers as close as he dares to lean in my direction.
“What would you have me do, Your Majesty?” she asks, cold and calculated.
“Give our audience their finale.”
Beads of sweat roll down my temples as I push off of the ground and rise with caution, muscles trembling as they attempt to hold my bones up.
“Emperor, if I may?” Varic asks, playing his role of distractor, as his voice carries a suspiciously jovial tone.
